


A Cowboy’s Personal Fantasy

by cedar_sap_curtains



Category: overwatch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-06-16 07:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15432003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedar_sap_curtains/pseuds/cedar_sap_curtains
Summary: McCree loves fruit.





	1. Chapter 1

McCree took a look at Hanzo’s decadent round ass, his cheeks were like fresh plump strawberries handpicked from the patch. That peach ring poop chute was just begging for his hot, fresh, organic McCream.


	2. For One Night and One Night Only

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo drink alone at the bar hoping he’ll see that special someone.

Hanzo sat alone in the back of the his favorite hideaway, Filthy McNasty’s Saloon in Fort Worth, Texas—not to be mistaken for JW Mc Nasty’s Saloon in New Boston, Michigan. He’d never go there, not again.

‘Big Green Tractor’ was blasting on the speakers, the lyrics made him reminisce of the rides he took with a certain cowboy. _We can go slow, we can go faster._ He sighed with dejection, maybe he wasn’t coming after all. The Jason Aldean song ended, and just as Tim McGraw’s classic ‘I Like It, I Love It’ began to play, he saw _him._ McCree’s eyes met his from across the dance floor; he square danced over, passion and swagger radiating from each step. Hanzo felt the old flames of lust lick his body as he watched the McMan do his McDance of seduction. Finally, McCree stood before him.

Jesse McCree did a single jumping jack.


	3. MyHorse1

McCree took a look at Hanzo’s decadent round ass, his cheeks were like fresh plump strawberries handpicked from the patch. That peach ring poop chute was just begging for his hot, fresh, organic McCream.

Hanzo stared incredulously at his cellular device. Was this really all there was? The archer cracked his knuckles, he would end this as swiftly as his arrows pierced a human heart.

“stop clogging up the feed k thx”

There that would show McCree. Overwatch’s mission logs were not for foolish works of fiction, only serious reports!

He immediately received a reply. Anonymous. Curious…it read:

“They've literally only posted one story, calm your horses. If they post five or six in a row like this I can see where a problem would be, but there's no harm in having a crackfic. It has the correct tags (if a bit vague but it is a story about the ships) and the correct rating. This is only chapter one, they could always add to it. You don't know what you could be stomping out.”

All Hanzo could do was laugh. Which of the clowns in this facility would have defended the cowboy’s heinous report. The doctor, the gamer? It didn’t matter he would finish this.

“nah. post it when you're ready to actually write something of substance. Xoxo”

McCree looked blankly at the scene in his hand. How could Hanzo, his sweetie pie sugar peach, say such a cruel thing about the words he crafted with such love and affection. Betrayal stabbed him like the katana Hanzo used on his brother.

“‘something of substance’  
What a terrible excuse and disgusting way to force your view of how a story should be lol :^)”

If Hanzo was going to be like that, then he’d would have to get meaner than a hornet in an old Coke can. Ain’t nobody talk to Jesse McCree that way.

Ain’t.

Nobody.

The McMan needed to go clear his head. He adorned his riding boots so he could take old MyHorse1 into the woods and camp out. Looking at the stars always helped him get over his deeply rooted emotional pain and abandonment complex.

Just as he reached the door, he ran into an oh so familiar set of bobbies.

“Hanzo?”

Hanzo Shimada gave him a pointed look. The cow man must learn his lesson. He held up McCree’s report of their last mission up and said, “Thank you for defending this work of art.” The expansive universes inside the sarcastic tone of his voice shook the McCowMan to his core.

Tears welled up in McCree’s eyes. He couldn’t believe what he just heard. Without a word he ran past his former love, their shoulders bumping roughly. In a distraught haze he heard voices of his fellow members of Overwatch.

The doctor called out at him, “Bitch.”

Even the hyper intelligent gorilla scorned him with a; “Grazie, mi detesto.”

Why did he say it in Italian?! McCree didn’t understand. All he could understand was that he wasn’t welcome here anymore. When he reached the stables there was MyHorse1 waiting patiently, the equine beauty seemingly understood the situation Jesse was in. That’s just how strong and beautiful the bond between outlaw and horse is. They road far away into woods.

Alone at last. Well minus MyHorse1, but horses don’t count. Not in this timeline.

“Maybe I should stop writing stuff like that.”

MyHorse1 neighed vaguely.

“It’s just I can’t help myself I just, I have so much love in my heart. I don’t know if Hanzo truly understands.”

MyHorse1 neighed in a tone of horse that more or less said, “Hay there McCree, get it. Hay. Because I’m a horse? You don’t need to worry about what anyone else thinks. You did it because it you wanted to, because it brings you joy. Y’all ain’t killed nobody. So what’s the harm in it?”

“… MyHorse1, that was,” the cow man sniffled, “that’s the first time anybody ever told me something like that. You’re a true pal. You know that?”

MyHorse1 whinnied.

“I guess I should go apologize to Hanzo. I’ll take him to Walmart, that always cheers me up.”

 


	4. More Than Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/C5ps0G3AmN8

McCree stood outside of the door to Hanzo’s room at the watchpoint, and knocked.

“Hanzo?”

He didn’t get a response, maybe he was sleeping. The McCow man opened the door cautiously, his eyes scanning the room. They stopped when they found his beautiful samurai. Hanzo was hanging upside down like an opossum from a pull-up bar on his closet door in the far corner of the room. McCree smiled to himself, Hanzo only slept in this position when he felt deep regret about something. A few months back, after a rough and rowdy roll in the hay, they had one of those deep intimate talks that only lovers do. Hanzo had told him that he sleeps upside down like a bat when he cannot handle his emotions. He didn’t sleep horizontally for three months after stabbing his brother to death with a katana. Maybe this means he felt bad about what he said to McCree.

“Hanzo?” The McMan said once more.

Hanzo opened one eye.

“Ah it’s you.”

Both knew they wanted to apologize to the other. Yet, in that moment there was only silence between the two men.

Then McCree farted.

The concentration it took for Hanzo to stay in that position shattered upon hearing the cowboy’s flatulence, and tumbled onto the floor. Embarrassed, McCree rushed over to offer him a hand, to his pleasant surprise Hanzo took it and let himself be hoisted back onto his metal goat feet. The two stared lovingly into each others eyes, a mutual understanding flowed through their gaze. No words were needed. McCree squeezes his hand and pulls the archer into a tight embrace, and they just hold each other as if time didn’t exist.

“Hey pardner, wanna go to Walmart?”


End file.
